


The Conquest of Mexico in Ten Minutes or Less

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written in response to <a href="http://southparkkink.livejournal.com/529.html?thread=192529#t192529">a prompt at southparkkink</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Conquest of Mexico in Ten Minutes or Less

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to [a prompt at southparkkink](http://southparkkink.livejournal.com/529.html?thread=192529#t192529).

Cartman filed into the gymnasium with the rest of the junior and senior classes and sighed. This was bullshit. _One kid_ happens to lose his shit after a little bit of harmless teasing, attempts to suicide bomb the school, and gets locked away in the mental institute for the remainder of the foreseeable future, and now they _all_ had to sit through another stupid assembly on tolerance and acceptance and not attempting to murder your classmates. It was so unfair.  
  
He saw Kenny sitting towards the top of the wooden bleachers on the left, and made his way up to sit with him. Kenny saw him and scooted over to make room. Cartman reached his row and started awkwardly sideways walking over to sit next to him on the crowded bleacher bench. He noticed Stan and Kyle sitting close together in the row just below, and happened to -- not even really on purpose, exactly! -- smack Stan in the head with his backpack as he squeezed past.  
  
"Ow," said Stan.  
  
Kyle twisted around to glare at him. "God damn it, fat ass, can't you even walk into a room without making it a point to remind everybody of what a huge dick you are?"  
  
Cartman huffed a little as he sat down next to Kenny. "Gee, Kyle, you really think you should be talking about my huge dick in front of your boyfriend there? Don't want to make him jealous."  
  
Kyle rolled his eyes and turned around, attempting to broadcast _I'm ignoring you now_ with his posture.  
  
Kenny laughed a little and asked, "So does anyone know what this assembly's about, anyway?"  
  
Cartman looked around the gym, watching the assistant principal struggling with some cables. "Probably something about how we're no longer allowed to produce and distribute photoshopped images of members of the student body engaged in hilarious and embarrassing sexual acts," he said, then frowned. "Either that, or how home made explosives are too dangerous and unreliable to be brought onto school grounds."  
  
"Dude," Stan said with a concerned look on his face. "That kid could have died."  
  
"Yeah, not to mention everybody else in his physics class," Kyle said, apparently not ignoring Cartman after all.  
  
"Well, then let's all just thank our lucky stars that he was in remedial physics, and not advanced placement," Cartman said. Kyle was in advanced placement physics. Cartman wondered if Kyle could build a working bomb.  
  
Most of the students had found seats in the bleachers, barring a few stragglers still wandering into the gym. The assistant principal was still struggling with the PA set up. The sharp whine of feedback came over the speakers, only to be abruptly cut off and replaced with silence. A woman who Cartman recognized as the AV club advisor came running over to help.  
  
Cartman sighed and dug in his backpack for his pencil case. He opened it up and took out a few of his super sweet glitter gel colored pens. Sometimes Kenny made fun of Cartman for using them, but Cartman knew he was just jealous. Probably because his mom couldn't afford to buy him sweet glitter gel colored pens like Cartman's mom could.  
  
He started idly doodling on his hand. Who knew how long this was going to take? He was missing history class for this. He was supposed to be giving an oral report on Hernán Cortés right now.  
  
Cartman fucking loved giving oral reports.  
  
He capped his pen as he finished the doodle. He put back his pens and fished around in a pocket of his backpack for the tiny wig he usually kept in there. You know, just in case. It paid to be prepared. He put it in place, and looked admiringly at his handiwork.  
  
"Oh, Eric, how much longer do you think we will have to sit here? I was so looking forward to hearing your report about the Conquistadores."  
  
Cartman pulled a sincere face and said, "Wow, thanks, Ms. Lopez. I really prepared a lot for that report. I think it'll be super informative."  
  
Kyle turned around again looking annoyed. "Really? This again? You're really doing this?"  
  
Cartman's hand turned and faced Kyle. "What's the matter, Kyle? You don't like me?" Cartman's hand tilted at a sad angle. "But I like _you_ so much. So very, very much." Cartman's hand pressed awkward kisses against Kyle's cheek until he swatted at it and turned away again.  
  
"Oh, Kyle, why do you ignore me like that?" Kyle had turned to say something to Stan. Cartman was starting to feel a little hurt. His hand insinuated itself in between the two of them. "Is it because of your little boyfriend here? Honey, you forget this loser. I could do things to you that this boy has never even heard of."  
  
"Woah, what?" Cartman interjected. "Ms. Lopez, that was pretty inappropriate," he said, voice dripping with sincerity.  
  
"Yeah, no kidding," Stan muttered.  
  
"I know you may not realize this," Cartman continued, "but Stan and Kyle have decided not to acknowledge their secret gay relationship out in public like this. So by all means, if you're going to make a move on Kyle, don't let old Stanley here stop you."  
  
Stan was looking a little wide eyed at Kyle, currently being subjected to more awkward kisses from Cartman's hand. Kyle stood up, slightly pink in the face, and grabbed his bag. "Come on, we're leaving," he announced, then slowly sidled out of the row of bleachers in a careful huff. Stan stood up and followed him, with an apologetic glance back at Kenny.  
  
Kenny looked at Cartman, laughing, and shrugged. "Whatever, man, I thought it was pretty funny," he said.  
  
Cartman sighed and watched Kyle and Stan find seats at the bottom of the bleachers near Wendy and Bebe. "Shut up, Kenny. I hate you."

  


* * *

  


As soon as Cartman got home, he went straight up to his room, dumped his backpack by his door, and flopped down on his bed. His phone buzzed with a text from Butters about hanging out today, but he was too depressed to bother responding. That stupid assembly was too boring to even make fun of, and he was still upset about history class.  
  
That oral report had seriously been going to be epic. He'd had to fight that bitch Wendy Testaburger to get his report scheduled for the last spot today. Today was Friday. Now he was going to have to go on Monday. You never got a good crowd on Monday. Half his idiot classmates would be too bored or tired to even pay attention to him, and the other half that actually gave a shit would be too preoccupied with their own pending assignments and presentations to care about his.  
  
He turned to his hand lying next to him on the bed. "So what'd you think about that retarded assembly today, Ms. Lopez?"  
  
"You know, Eric, you can call me Jennifer." Pronounced with a _jota_ , not a _jay_.  
  
"Jennifer," he said.  
  
"No, _Jen_ nifer."  
  
"Jennifer," he responded, emphasizing the American J.  
  
" _Jen_ nifer." Her face was starting to scrunch up with the seriousness of her request.  
  
"Um, Hennifer," he said. Her face relaxed. "So what'd you think about that retarded assembly, Hennifer?"  
  
"Oh, sí, sí, yes, I liked it."  
  
His eyebrows raised in indignation. "You _liked_ it? It was totally lame!"  
  
"Yes, but I got to see my Kyle. He's so handsome."  
  
Cartman scoffed. "That Jewish asshole. He doesn't even _like_ you. He gets pissed off every time he sees you."  
  
"I like him when he's angry. He seems so much... spicier." Cartman's hand tilted dreamily. "Plus he kissed me. A lot."  
  
Cartman rolled his eyes. "No, _you_ kissed _him_ a lot. And then he hit you. And then he ran away. Which proves my point."  
  
Cartman's hand turned sharply to look at him dead on. "What, are you jealous? I think you're just sad because my spicy little Kyle kisses me, but he will never kiss you."  
  
Cartman scowled, then forced a humorless laugh. "That's stupid. You're stupid. You should shut your stupid mouth."  
  
His hand came to rest on his chest, tilted up slightly to look at his face. "Why don't you shut it for me?"  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at his hand. "Oh yeah? How?" he asked, humor returning.  
  
His hand dipped coquettishly. "Oh sí, sí, Eric. I think you could figure out a way. After all, you're so smart. And big. And handsome."  
  
Cartman licked his lips. "You're not so bad looking yourself, Jennifer. With your big eyes. And your lips. Which look a little dry, actually." He turned and started rooting in his bedside table with his right hand for the little plastic container of Vaseline he kept there. He found it, then popped the lid off one handed and dragged his index finger through it, picking up a big glob of the stuff. He dragged his finger over all his left hand's lips, then paused with his finger resting against the edge of her mouth, breathing heavy.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for? Take it out already."  
  
He didn't need any more invitation than that. He reached down to unbutton his pants one handed, then shimmied his jeans and briefs down far enough to free his half hard cock.  
  
Cartman's left hand moved down so Jennifer could put her mouth over him and slide it up and down, slowly, just over the tip. He could feel himself firming up in her mouth. The head of his dick kept nudging the pads of his fingers as she stroked her mouth over him, slowly, slowly.  
  
Cartman squirmed a little, then started rolling his hips up, pushing more and more of himself into her mouth with each stroke. "Yeah," he grunted. "You like that, don't you? You like the way I feel in your mouth." He thrust up again, hard.  
  
His hand pulled back, letting his cock slip out of Jennifer's mouth. "Hey, watch it, mister. You're choking me."  
  
Cartman whined, frustrated.  
  
His hand tilted toward his face, a sympathetic tilt to the clench of his fingers. "It's just that you're so big, I can't take it when you thrust like that." His hand rested with her lips just grazing the head of his cock. "But I love the way you feel, filling my mouth."  
  
Cartman moaned. "Sorry, sorry."  
  
"S'okay baby, I forgive you." She put her mouth back on him and started pumping up and down again, more quickly this time. Cartman kept his thrusts shallow. He felt the inside of his hand grow slick with precome. His wrist was starting to ache from the awkward angle.  
  
"Fuck," Cartman groaned. "Fuck. Please -- touch my hole." He felt her still, and looked down at his hand where it was, his cock still inside her mouth. He could feel himself throbbing in time with his pulse. He tried to stop his shallow thrusting.  
  
Her eyes were looking up at him reproachfully. "Or just -- put your mouth on my balls? Just for a minute," he begged, even though he knew better at this point than to keep talking.  
  
She pulled off of him completely. "I don't know who you think I am, puto, but I'm not doing any of that gay stuff."  
  
Cartman threw his head back in frustration. "God, fine. Whatever. Just put your fucking mouth back on me, _please_ ," he moaned.  
  
She slid her mouth back down over his erection, and started pumping him in earnest. He reached down with his free hand, placed two fingers against his perineum, and just pressed. His left hand kept pumping.  
  
He was close. Fuck, he was close. He thought about warning her, but then decided not to. He felt himself start to come in her mouth. She stayed put, holding him through his orgasm, come coating the insides of his fingers.  
  
She pulled off as he started to soften. She wiped his mess off on his jeans where they were shoved halfway down his thighs. He looked down at his hand resting on his leg, staring back up at him. He reached down with his right hand and pulled her wig off, then tossed it in his bedside drawer. He suddenly felt just the tiniest bit foolish.  
  
Cartman kicked his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, letting them pool on the floor next to his bed. He twisted around to pull the covers over himself, ready to take a nap. He felt a little better. Slightly less angry. Slightly more silly.  
  
He looked at his left hand resting on the pillow next to him.  
  
"Hey, kid."  
  
"Hey," Cartman said sleepily.  
  
"You did good today."  
  
Cartman's lip twitched up in a half smile. "You think so?"  
  
"Sure thing. So what if your plans got a little messed up, and your presentation will probably be lame, and all your friends think you're an asshole, and the only girl who'll ever touch your dick is your left hand in a wig."  
  
"Hey," Cartman protested.  
  
"The point is, you'll go back and do the best darn job you can again on Monday, and there's no way to definitively prove who anonymously distributed those hilarious and embarrassing images of that poor kid, and all your asshole friends can suck it. Because you're Eric Cartman. And you're pretty cool."  
  
"Yeah," Cartman said, smiling freely. "Thanks, Mitch." He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, content. He _was_ pretty cool.


End file.
